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E Quotes

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All E Quotes

“Elisabeth. A breath on the back of my neck. I am dizzy, I sway, but I stand. A breath, then a kiss. I cannot see, but I know it is him. The Goblin King. I lean into him, but he holds me upright. He murmurs my name down my neck, down my spine, his long, elegant fingers traveling along the curves of my hips, my waist. Elisabeth. I do not know what to call him, but I cry out his name. My fingers reach, but he is gone.”

“Elishva found no comfort in abstract speculation. She treated her patron saint as one of her relatives, a member of a family that had been torn apart and dispersed. He was the only person she had left, apart from Nabu, the cat, and the specter of her son, Daniel, who was bound to return one day. To others she lived alone, but she believed she lived with three beings, or three ghosts, with so much power and presence that she didn't feel lonely.”

“Elissa became aware that she had both hands held out in front of her, as if to push the sight away, as if to make it not real, not true, not THERE. She'd known they were doing something awful to Lin, to the others, but she'd never imagined something like this. Never imagined there were shutting them away in the dark, trapped and drowning, every moment waiting for the pain that would tear through them when the ship went into hyperspeed. A memory pierced her. "You said the others -other Spares- were taken away. It was this. It was for this." Lin's face turned to her, as pale as that of the dead Spare. In the dim room, her eyes were black hollows. Her jaw was slack with shock. "NO," said Cadan. "No. It cant be. This cant be what they-" He broke off. "Oh, G-d in heaven, hyperdrives last five to seven years." For a moment Elissa didn't pick up on what he meant. Then it hit her, a huge fist clenching her hers stomach. "SEVEN YEARS? That's how long he's been there?" "No. Not this one. The PHOENIX is only two hears old. This one - somethings been malfunctioning all along. He must-" Cadan choked again. "Ah, G-d what have I been doing to him?" "Two years." Elissa found her head turning back toward where the Spare floated, limp and helpless. Out there, in all the other spaceships, other Spares were floating in the same way, kept alive by tubes, kept - Oh G-d, were they conscious the whole time? As she looked, unable to turn away, other details revealed themselves, details she didn't want, things she didn't want to know could happen anywhere, EVER.”

“Elite athletes know something that most people don’t—adversity is the best thing that can happen to you. The competitors here at the Games know that humans only improve through adversity by embracing short-term pain. Ensuring there is no struggle, no challenge, and staying in your wheelhouse is a recipe for spinning your wheels without improving. It’s the days when you have to do things that scare you, when you have to take risks, when you have to push against challenge and difficulty—those are the days that make you stronger, faster, and better overall.”

“Elites are inevitable in politics. That is how politics is going to work. The question is, are your elites responsible, public-spirited? Do they think about the interests of others, not just themselves? And the story of Western politics since the beginning of the century is that as elites become more separated, more selfish, as they leave behind their populations and don't think about them, they become discredited. And the people look for alternatives. But the alternative is worse. Those rules of the game protect us all. And they are more precious than almost any political outcome.”

“Elitism & Fundamentalism (The Sonnet) Elitism and fundamentalism, Are both the enemies of progress. Exchanging one bad habit for another, Is not true advancement but regress. Fundamentalists used to fill the world, With the poison of dirty division. Today elitists poison the world, By endorsing snobbery and narcissism. Conscience, courage and compassion, These are the three pillars of progress. Without these all belief is delusion, All glitter is but a sign of coldness. Replace not fundamentalism with elitism. Grow out of selfishness into collectivism.”

“Eliza focuses on Christ’s expression, appalling in a serenity as disproportionate to the scene as the weeping Marys. Where is your anger? Eliza questions. Sunday by Sunday she asks and receives no answer. I am angry, I am furious! She knows the impropriety of these feelings; she knows Christ suffers for her immortal soul. Can I not be both grateful for the miracle and angry at the injustice? Who can look at Christ’s face, his jutting ribs, the discoloration of rot rising on the skin of his dying feet, his dying hands – who can look upon this man and lack fury?”

“Eliza had split each day between her two favorite places on the estate: the black rock down in the cove, on top of which millennia of tides had washed smooth a seat-sized platform; and the hidden garden, her garden, at the end of the maze. What a delight it was to have a place of one's own, an entire garden in which to Be. Sometimes Eliza liked to sit on the iron seat, perfectly still, and just listen. To the windblown leaves tapping against the walls, the muffled ocean breathing in and out, and the birds singing their stories. Sometimes, if she sat still enough, she almost fancied she could hear the flowers sighing in gratitude to the sun.”

“Eliza has no use for the foolish romantic tradition that all women love to be mastered, if not actually bullied and beaten. "When you go to women," says Nietzsche, "take your whip with you." Sensible despots have never confined that precaution to women: they have taken their whips with them when they have dealt with men, and been slavishly idealized by the men over whom they have flourished the whip much more than by women. No doubt there are slavish women as well as slavish men; and women, like men, admire those that are stronger than themselves. But to admire a strong person and to live under that strong person's thumb are two different things. The weak may not be admired and hero-worshipped; but they are by no means disliked or shunned; and they never seem to have the least difficulty in marrying people who are too good for them. They may fail in emergencies; but life is not one long emergency: it is mostly a string of situations for which no exceptional strength is needed, and with which even rather weak people can cope if they have a stronger partner to help them out. Accordingly, it is a truth everywhere in evidence that strong people, masculine or feminine, not only do not marry stronger people, but do not show any preference for them in selecting their friends. When a lion meets another with a louder roar "the first lion thinks the last a bore." The man or woman who feels strong enough for two, seeks for every other quality in a partner than strength. The converse is also true. Weak people want to marry strong people who do not frighten them too much; and this often leads them to make the mistake we describe metaphorically as "biting off more than they can chew." They want too much for too little; and when the bargain is unreasonable beyond all bearing, the union becomes impossible: it ends in the weaker party being either discarded or borne as a cross, which is worse. People who are not only weak, but silly or obtuse as well, are often in these difficulties”

“Eliza, I'm eighty years old. All my life I've been trying one way or another to do people good. Whether that was right or not, I don't know, but it comes over me now that I'm excused from all that. I loved Homer, but I tried to do him good. .. the way I see it now, that was wrong, that was where I's led astray. From now on, Eliza, I don't figure there's a thing asked of me but to love my fellow men. . . .No, Eliza, as far as I can see, there's not another thing asked of me, from this day forward.”

“Eliza reached for the basket, but it was heavier than expected, and she almost dropped it. With a quick motion Lord Hastings righted it before the flowers could spill out, and in the process stepped very close to her. "Sorry," she said breathlessly as she hefted the basket in both hands. He didn't let go. Eliza looked up and her breath caught in her throat. He was looking at her, and his expression made her heart start to pound and her hands start to shake. "Miss Cross," he began. "I hope you don't think me presumptuous, but...I am rather glad your father was delayed today." She couldn't blink. She couldn't move. He reached out and drew her shawl lightly over her shoulder from where it had drooped. "Do you?" he asked softly. "What?" Her voice sounded faint and dazed. Hastings's mouth curved, and his eyes crinkled, almost teasingly. "Think me presumptuous," he whispered. "You can tell me." "No!" It burst out of her like a shout, but she had only enough breath for a whisper. Something shifted in his eyes before he lowered his lashes. He took her hand in his and raised it. Eliza quaked inside as his lips brushed slowly, softly, over her knuckles. His hands, still gloved, were so large and strong around her limp fingers. His eyes flashed up for a moment, as if gauging her reaction, and then he turned her hand over and touched his lips to her wrist. Eliza thought she might have whimpered out loud. She must have dozed off in the sun and was having another dream about him, one in which he looked at her with those obsidian-dark eyes and gave her the slow smile that made her stomach jump and leap, but no- this felt real. The handle of the flower basket was digging into her palm, her heart was pounding so hard she could almost hear it, and he was so close she could see the beginnings of stubble on his jaw, right near his beautiful mouth-”

“Eliza: The problem with YOU is that you don't take the RESPONSIBILITY for anything@ You think you can just run around, doing whatever you want to whoever you want, and that it's going to be fine. That everything is just going to be TAKE CARE of for you, with no consequences. Cooper: No. I don't, and I have had consequences from what happened with me and you. Eliza: Yeah? Like what? Cooper: I lost you, that was my consequence.”